


Catch a Wave (And Take In the Sweetness)

by StarsCrackedOpen (Misthia)



Series: Things Carried, Unseen [20]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Best Friends, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Pre-Relationship, References to the Jedi Council (Star Wars), Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:29:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misthia/pseuds/StarsCrackedOpen
Summary: After a tense meeting with the council, Ahsoka persuades Anakin that he’d be better served by doing something other than holing up in his room.Or: In which Ahsoka knows better than to let Anakin stew, and Anakin decides they need a night off.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker/Ahsoka Tano
Series: Things Carried, Unseen [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839160
Comments: 8
Kudos: 182





	Catch a Wave (And Take In the Sweetness)

**Author's Note:**

> This one might be a bit clichéd in premise, but it’s the idea that sparked these oneshots. If you like it, let me know — and if it’s terrible, also let me know. Easy companionship with our favorite mavericks awaits. I imagine this would take place around season five or so. The last one was centered on Anakin’s thoughts, and this one is centered on Ahsoka’s.
> 
> I feel like it might still need more refinement, so it might change a little in the next few days. 
> 
> This one has more shippy undertones, or rather I wrote it with them in mind, but they could also be seen simply as a particularly deep friendship. The final line (and the song inscription) have some deeper implications, but could be seen still as one-sided/a little crush and nothing more. This is more hinting at things that could develop.
> 
> More notes at the end, if you’re not tired of my ramblings by then. As always, I own nothing, I just write stories set in a world I love to escape to in lieu of therapy. Title is from “Mariner’s Apartment Complex,” same as the inscription. I found myself thinking of the lyrics a lot writing this.

* * *

_“You lose your way, just take my hand._

_You’re lost at sea, then I’ll command your boat to me again._

_Don’t look too far, right where you are, that’s where I am..._

_I’m your man.”_

_\- Lana Del Rey, “Mariner’s Apartment Complex”_

* * *

Ahsoka waited outside the council chamber, watching the festival swirling below in the early Coruscanti evening. Music, voices, and the smell of cooking meat wafted up as she waited for her master. It was taking longer than expected. She had wanted to go in with him, but he had told her to stay put and wait. Though his mental shielding was strong, she could feel through their bond that his irritation was mounting and his temper fraying. She sent a ribbon of support along the well-traveled path in the Force and hummed as she watched the people in the streets.

The door suddenly opened, and her master strode out, brow furrowed deeply and his Force signature turbulent around him. She fell into step beside him as he headed back in the direction of his quarters, jaw working soundlessly.

“The council’s giving you a hard time again, huh.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Why, my young padawan, what would make you think that?”

She smirked, “Just a feeling.” Silence from her master. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He didn’t even pause to consider. “No.”

“If you keep making that expression, your face will get stuck like that.”

Now he shot a glance over at her, the thought underpinning it reaching her just as quickly. _I’m not in the mood, Snips._ She put her hands up, placating. “Holing yourself up in your quarters won’t make you feel better.”

He snorted. “Oh? And who are you to tell me that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s what you tell me all the time, master. Maybe take your own advice?”

Anakin stopped, letting out a long breath and rubbing the bridge of his nose, but the stormcloud was settling a bit. “All right, Ahsoka. What do you suggest, _oh wise one?_ ”

There was no real bite to his voice, and his sarcasm rolled off her back easily. “You could finally show me how to tune Artoo’s boosters. Or we could spar.”

Anakin sighed, then paused, looking at the city below. “...I have an idea.”

Ahsoka knew that mischievous look. It was the look that got them into more scrapes than she could count, but she’d be lying if she said they weren’t usually _fun_. She quirked her brow. “And what would that be?”

He nodded towards the churning crowd below with a smirk.

She looked at him, a little surprised. “You want to go to the festival? You aren’t worried someone will recognize us?”

“Who will recognize us? It’s not like the council will come down. Besides, we’ll be incognito.” A small crooked smirk crossed his face, and he patted her shoulder as he set off to his quarters again. “C’mon. Put on some civvies and meet me outside the eastern gate.”

A quarter of a standard hour later, Ahsoka slipped out the gate, wearing a simple hooded tunic in cream and taupe that she’d dug out of the recesses of her small closet. She looked around, not seeing her master anywhere and feeling strangely vulnerable as she put out a feeler. A tug on their bond answered her question. _Over here._ Anakin stepped out from the shadow of a building, looking every part the Coruscanti civilian in muted blues and tans. He looked good, lighter somehow, and she didn’t think it was just the palette change. “Ready?” She nodded and they set off toward the noise of the crowd.

Only once they were well clear of the temple did Ahsoka lower her hood. This wasn’t _forbidden_ , exactly, but there was, it seemed, a general disapproval of such... _worldly_ pastimes as going to a festival. It would be seen by some as undignified. She also got the sense that the council meeting had gone even worse than Anakin had let on, and she didn’t want him — or herself — lectured or punished. Their last assignment had felt like enough of a punishment as it was, and Ahsoka had a sneaking suspicion that it had been meant as such, too.

As if he had read her mind, Anakin spoke. “It’s not like you to worry about bending the rules, Snips.”

She sighed. “I know, master. Just...with everything that’s happened, and that last mission...” _And that meeting that had you fuming_ went unsaid and unsent through the bond, but she had the feeling he heard it somehow anyway. He gave a slight shrug, seemingly nonchalant.

“ _If_ someone recognizes us, and _if_ they question it, we’ll just call this part of your training.”

She fixed him with a look. “Going to a festival is training?”

“Blending into a crowd. Stealth. C’mon, Snips, doing something was your idea.” A playful flick of their bond here.

She gave an exaggerated sigh, hiding a smile but returning the tweak. Her master at least seemed to be back to his usual cocky self. “All right, Skyguy. Let’s go be _citizens_.”

A few more blocks and they were in the thick of it, Ahsoka staying close to Anakin as he had the height to navigate through the crowds, until they came to a public square that seemed to be a locus of activity.

They bought skewers of an uncertain but tasty meat from a street cart and mugs of black ale and found a spot to sit at the edge of the square. A troop of dancers was performing, colorful skirts swirling as a band played. Between them the Force was humming pleasantly under it all, and Ahsoka found herself relaxing into the moment. For now, there was no war, no threats — just her and her best friend, a summer festival, and a mouthful of Force-knows-what on a stick. Contentment bloomed in her chest and snaked across their bond and she felt an answering brush in kind. She glanced over out of the corner of her eye and saw her master with a rare smile — not a smirk, a _smile_ — on his face as he watched the dancers, lips shiny from their meal and the perpetual furrow in his brow gone.

She thought of the stories of the great Jedi masters of old, who could stretch time with the Force. Ahsoka wished she could keep his smile and her feeling forever, that she could stretch this moment forward — past the end of the war — to some time when they could both smile more.

The spell was broken when a drunken fairgoer stumbled into the square to try and dance with one of the performers, and the city guards had to intervene, pulling the lout off and dragging him away. He continued to yell a steady stream of what sounded like gibberish. Anakin blinked but didn’t tense, observing the scene. Measuring it.

He looked sidelong at her, speaking from the corner of his mouth. “You _did_ bring your sabers, right?”

Ahsoka briefly crossed one leg over the other, causing the cloth of her tunic to strain over the outline of one of the aforementioned weapons, patting it. “ _Of course_ ,” she hissed back through her smile.

A hint of pride nudged against her mind. “Attagirl.”

The party picked back up immediately after that, the drunk man forgotten quickly. They sat together in a companionable silence, the Force warm around them, sipping ale and watching the revelers again.

Night soon fell, and the square was re-lit with colorful strung lanterns. A cool breeze brushed through the square and tickled Ahsoka’s montrals. The dancers finished their last song and bowed to the cheers of the crowd and bursts of confetti from the windows above the square. As they trooped offmen came forward with high tables from a nearby cantina, setting up for a very different event — an arm wrestling competition. A man with a microphone stepped up, explaining the rules and the betting.

Ahsoka nudged Anakin. “I’ll put ten credits on you.”

He laughed, in higher spirits than she thought she’d ever seen him. “Tempting, but we should probably get back. It’s getting late.” She nodded and stood, disposing of her trash, brushing off a few stray pieces of confetti. As she turned back around she started laughing at the sight of Anakin. “What?”

“You’ve got confetti all over you!”

He did. On his shoulders, in his hair. He brushed himself off, but when he looked back up at her she just shook her head, smiling. “It’s still in your hair.” He bent over and scrubbed out his hair, confetti falling, then straightened back up and tried to smooth it back into place.

“Is it gone?”

“You missed one.” She stepped forward and plucked the last errant piece from near his ear, still smiling widely enough for him to see her sharp canines. “Now you’re good.”

“You have one on you too.” He reached forward and gently brushed a piece off from the hollow between her montrals. There was a softness in his eyes she’d rarely seen. “Let’s go.”

She nodded, pulled her hood up, and fell into step beside him. They headed back to the temple, taking the long way and comparing notes on Togruti and Huttese curses — the latter being, Ahsoka learned, what the drunk man had been yelling. They laughed as their tongues tripped over the respectively alien sounds.

They didn’t talk about politics, or war, or the Order. They talked about trivialities, and somehow in the moment, that sliver of solace granted by the conversation made those trivialities the most important subjects in the world.

Upon reaching the temple, the mood shifted, but Anakin still seemed happier than when they had left. Ahsoka noted with some satisfaction that his brow was still smooth. They said goodnight, he reminded her to be on the training ground at eight sharp the following day, and each headed to their quarters. Ahsoka changed into her night clothes, still basking in the earlier swell of contentment, and got into bed. Being a Jedi had its perks, but it had been nice to be a citizen for a night, and it gladdened her heart to see her master _happy_ for a few precious hours.

As Ahsoka laid there, mind still buzzing, she felt something warm that felt like an impression of _gratitude_ brush against her mind. She smiled, responding with her own similar feelings, and a few minutes after she felt the bond dim slightly, and realized Anakin had probably fallen asleep.

She fell asleep herself quickly after that, wrapped in the warmth of the evening, trying not to think about why she could still feel his soft hair on her fingertips and his hand on her skin.

**_Fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> There it is. I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think. The confetti bit wasn’t originally part of the story and I thought might be too contrived, but it set up the last line. I also toyed with the idea of them needing to use their sabers after all, but I felt it didn’t work within the rare peaceful feeling I wanted to weave. I originally was going to write it with Ahsoka suggesting the festival, but as I wrote it, it seemed more like Anakin to jump headfirst into it as a passive “screw off” to the council he just got into it with.
> 
> I genuinely think they are more comfortable around each other than anyone else at this point in the series, and I tried to get that feeling across.
> 
> I also spend a lot of time trying to un-run-on my sentences, but if I missed any, please point them out so I can improve them.


End file.
